Goodnight, mom.

My mom died on Thursday night. There was a blood moon. She would have loved it. Whole thing was pretty on brand for her all things considered.

When I was in middle school my mom found my Livejournal where I complained about her and my family and also wrote about various Star Wars and Lord of the Rings minutiae. Ever since then I've been reticent to talk about my family or personal life online. I guess the good news is she can't get mad at me for it anymore.

(Also I did ask her if she was comfortable with me writing about this a couple weeks ago. I'm not a total asshole.)

I found her body. We had been watching The Naked Gun in the other room trying to give her some peace and quiet. Joni Mitchell was playing. No one ever really tells you how surreal it is when someone dies around you. We didn't get a graceful moment where we all gathered around her and then some kind hospital worker wheeled her away as we wept. Just us and her corpse for three goddamn hours while people came and went and asked us questions.

The hospice nurse said we were the most fun pronouncement visit she'd ever had, which is a dubious honor but I guess I'll take it. We were laughing and joking and drinking bourbon because what the hell else are you supposed to do when you're sitting around waiting for someone to take your mom's body away. When you were halfway through a slapstick comedy in which OJ Simpson plays a major role - say whatever else you want to about him but the man had a gift for physical comedy - when you realized she had stopped breathing. When you haven't slept, not really, for a few days and you know if you stop laughing you might never start again. When your hospice nurse is a real Pittsburgher, accent and all, whose bedside manner probably would leave a lot to be desired for anyone normal but was exactly who we needed at that moment in time.

I had the constant fear during that time that somehow I had got it wrong. That maybe she was breathing so quietly or slowly that I hadn't noticed. It was a relief when the nurse finally confirmed it. Imagine how embarrassing it would have been otherwise. Real egg on my face type situation.

I am glad I got to say goodbye and I could give her a peaceful and beautiful place for her last days and hours. I am glad I made it back from New York while she was still there enough to see me and know I was there and tell me she loved me. I am glad for how much love I have felt from my partner and my family and friends. There is a lot to be grateful for here and a lot I want to hold on to. It just also feels wrong to try and frame a thing so painful and difficult and deeply, deeply strange as though it's beautiful all the time. I would like a break from being gracious every now and then. My mom's dead so I get to have that I think.

They tell me I will be processing this for some time. So far I can't say I recommend it. Mostly I just wish it were not happening but every day I get up and it still is.

My mom was never one to do anything quietly when dramatically would do and when I watched the moon and sun align, the light flaring up and out until the moon was a burnt umber, I knew she was up there enjoying herself. We're still here, trying to pick up the pieces. Lucky you, Mom. Keep watching. I love you.